


To Watch and Rewind

by ohmygoshwhatascream



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, This is just sad tbh like, Well it is now, Whump, is this how the sharingan works???, there's not really much else to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygoshwhatascream/pseuds/ohmygoshwhatascream
Summary: Kakashi's always been good at surviving, even when those around him are not.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	To Watch and Rewind

**Author's Note:**

> This is... genuinely quite scary to post. KakaIru was my first ship ever back when I watched Naruto, (or, well, I got to episode 124) when I was 12. I spent the next five years of my life deciding that my naruto phase was nothing more than that. Then lockdown hit. Then another one, then a third one. Now I'm here, rewatching Naruto, remembering just how much I love it. 
> 
> This ship, and this fandom, permanently changed how I consumed all media. Even though I got a bit lost along the way, it's a bit scary writing these two - they're characters that have always been near and dear to my heart (even if 13-16 year old me pretended otherwise)
> 
> I hope anyone reading this enjoys. As with all the short fics I write, I'm taking great liberties with the scenario at hand. Would Iruka and Kakashi really be assigned a mission together at this point in time? Can the Sharingan be used in this way? I don't know, but for the sake of Angst Purposes, canon can kindly leave me alone.

"Are you alright?" Iruka asks, voice faint and brittle.

It's a stupid question. One that they both already know the answer to. 

Iruka's skin is pale. Almost luminous, brown transformed into a sickly grey that has Kakashi's throat tightening. It's unfamiliar, the tint of death on someone who is usually so full of life. It is a burden that Kakashi is used to, a burden that he hoped that Iruka would never have to bear.  _ Foolish, _ he tells himself. Iruka is a ninja. To fight for their village is what they are trained for. 

To die is their reality. 

One mission going pear-shaped. That's all it took to wipe out the other three Chunin on this team. Their deaths had been swift, quick. The enemy-nin had been onto them before any of them had time to react. 

(Perhaps, if Kakashi was stronger, quicker,  _ better. _ He should be returning home with all four of his teammates. What will they call him now?  _ Friend-Killer _ doesn't quite cover it anymore) 

Blood is caked onto Iruka's face, the makings of a seal painted onto his forehead.  _ Rebirth, _ a symbol reads.  _ Blood, stop, regenerate. _ It's peeling off in great, ugly clumps now, a last-ditch effort that did nothing but build false hope. The characters are shaky and uncertain, the lines rushed and hesitant and brimming with a lack of confidence that Kakashi should have been able to shake. 

_ (A shinobi must never show any weakness,  _ Kakashi remembers learning that rule during his short stint in the academy. He also remembers Iruka calling it a load of shit)

The idea had been Iruka's, the seal still a work in progress. Some half-formed theory from his work back in the village, a project he and the Godaime herself had been working tirelessly on. Kakashi knows this. He knows a lot about Iruka now. (Part of him wishes he didn't)

There was a chance that the seals would work. Not much of a chance, mind you, but a chance all the same. 

They don't seem to be doing anything at all.

"You shouldn't be using the Sharingan," Iruka speaks again when the silence drags, his breathing deep and shallow. Such a voice sounds wrong coming from him. Reliant, dependable Iruka. The man who lives and breathes the Will of Fire, who shouts and laughs and surrounds himself with  _ noise.  _ "You'll tire yourself out."

Kakashi almost wants to strangle him. Even now, he's always thinking of others. He shouldn't be surprised. Iruka is like that. Always worrying. About Naruto, about Konohamaru and all his students. He worries about his friends, his  _ precious people _ . Even people he doesn't know, even people who don't deserve him. Always, Iruka  _ cares. _

That's what he does, it's what he has always done. 

Kakashi hadn't realised that he'd become a part of that. He hadn't realised that, somewhere along the line, Iruka had become one of his precious people too. Perhaps it had been from those weekly trips to Ichiraku. Kakashi didn't even particularly like ramen but Iruka always seemed so happy to have company, especially after Naruto had left.

(He's going to have to tell Naruto about this. He doesn't know if he can)

"It's okay." He hears himself say, his own voice sounding distant and far-off. "Konoha isn't too far. I can get you back and then we can-" It's a lie. One of his legs has been crushed and he's almost completely out of chakra. It's a miracle he's still standing, really. But Kakashi's always been good at surviving, even when everybody else around him does not. 

"Kakashi." He wonders when it became just that. No Kakashi-san, no Iruka-sensei. Just… them. 

"Kakashi," Iruka says again. Softly, as if talking to someone small and frightened. Kakashi isn't small. He isn't frightened. He hasn't been for years. "It's okay."

And he holds out a hand. It shakes, trembles from the blood loss and whatever jutsu that bastard missing-nin hit him with. His skin that ashen grey, that pallid sickness that does nothing but consume.  _ I know, _ it says.  _ I know what is coming. There's nothing we can do. _

Sharingan whirring, Kakashi can feel a headache coming on. He doesn't close it, though, doesn't even think about it. Iruka's hair is falling loose from its ponytail, wayward strands sweat-slicked to his skin. His eyes are warm, downturned at the edges. Familiar and safe and stable. Kakashi commits it to memory, ignores the burning of his eye and the wavering of his chakra. He can hold on just a bit longer. 

Slowly, carefully, he places his own hand in Iruka's. His skin is colder than it should be, but his fingers (wider than Kakashi's, with thick knotted scars on the knuckles that Kakashi has spent too long of his life staring at) wrap around his own. His touch is fading, though. A divide in a war-torn sea. Kakashi had always imagined that, if he had ever worked up the courage to hold Iruka's hand, his grip would have been strong and warm. Iruka would have squeezed his fingers in reassurance, tilted his head up ever so slightly and flashed him one of those brilliant smiles.

Instead, they're slumped in a forest that stinks of copper-blood and death. Iruka's grip is weak, his touch barely a flutter of a butterfly's wings. 

Kakashi feels like a spider's web. 

"I think I'm in love with you." He might as well say it now. It's not like he'll ever get another chance. 

The words hang in the air for a moment. Delicate, simple. Like the snowdrops in spring; new and delicate and so easily destroyed. There is no going back now. 

There is Iruka, with his pallid skin and his rattling breaths. Sweat shines on his forehead, bloodstains every inch of his skin. He smiles, though. A smile that, despite it all, reaches his eyes.

"I think I am too."

And then, like they always have done, a conversation rises. Just mundane things, things like Gai's most recent challenge, pranks that Iruka's students have tried (and failed) to pull. Kakashi talks about his dogs, makes Iruka laugh in a way that could almost be normal if it weren't for the wheezing cough that followed. 

The conversation shifts to Naruto, to Sasuke, and when that becomes too painful they talk about the weather. If Kakashi were to close his eyes, he could almost imagine that this was an average Friday evening. If he really concentrated, he could probably hear Ayame chatting to her father, the chirping of summer crickets and cicadas. 

He can't ignore the burning in his legs, though. The pain and fatigue that returns as his adrenaline fades to nothing. He feels dizzy, exhausted in a way that has his words slurring and his vision beginning to blur.

Ever so slowly, Iruka's replies seem to ebb. 

Maybe, if they're lucky, the medi-nin Kakashi had sent for would get to them early. It's a futile hope. Pakkun will run as fast as he can but even he cannot accomplish the impossible. Maybe, if he hadn't used so much of his chakra, he could have summoned another member of the pack. Bull might have been able to get them home. 

(Not that it matters now)

He'll make it. Probably. He always seems to. All his luck seems to have been used upon surviving the impossible. His friends and comrades have never been so lucky. 

Iruka slumps forward, head resting on Kakashi's collarbone. His breathing is ragged and every so often he is plagued by deep, rattling coughs. 

What a miserable way to die. At least he's not alone, though. At least they had this time to say goodbye. 

"Can I… can I ask for something selfish?" Iruka's words are slow, forced out as if each and every letter hurts. When Kakashi doesn't answer, he takes that as a sign to continue. "Whatever happens, please don't blame yourself."

Kakashi's breath catches in his throat. 

"I promise," he replies and convinces himself it's not a lie. 

And then Iruka stills, the silence rising as dried blood crumbles off his forehead. 

The Sharingan whirrs and, in the darkness, "Are you alright?" Iruka asks, voice faint and brittle.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm (slowly) working on some longer works for these two. This idea hit me last night and wouldn't let me go. Apologies for the angst, but thank you for reading! x
> 
> Always happy to receive feedback! I'm not the best at responding to comments but I do read them and they always mean a lot xxx. Have a good day/night! <3
> 
> Also, I'm still unsure in regards to what needs capitalisation and what doesn't. Ninja terms are confusing. Hopefully, I'll figure it out.


End file.
